Wrapped up hearts
by A m r a k l o ve
Summary: Short stories of the Uchiha family during Christmas. / 1. Down the chimney.
1. Down the chimney

Title: Down the chimney.

Summary: Little Sarada has an idea, and an idea true must become.

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><p><em><strong>"To a father growing old nothing is dearest than a daughter." <strong>Euripides._

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><p>"Mama!" After hearing the soft, hurried footsteps of her little angel, Sakura turns to look at her. She's shining a bright smile at her and from the angle she's positioned, her small eyes seem to glint with grand light and excitement.<p>

But what catches the pinkette's attention_,_ really, is the delicate and white piece of paper her daughter's holding in her tiny tiny hands. She's hiding what's on it, Sakura notices, and it doesn't take long before she blurts out what that is in concrete.

And when she does, it takes her completely off guard.

Sakura's eyes widen for a moment, staring at her, and the drawing, and at her precious heir back again, just out of pure shock. She doesn't know what to say.

"Papa, look, this is the North pole." Sasuke, who had just entered the kitchen after a long shower, stares at her daughter with little amusement. He blinks. "I made a map to get there so we don't get lost, can we goooooo, pleeeeease?" Sarada makes sure the _o_ and the _e_ are elongated, taking the time to voice them out absurdly for too long.

Sakura bites her lip to contain the laughter that tries to escape her mouth, later realising that Sasuke is not answering back. She shifts her gaze to look at him just to see him looking back at her with the same shock reflected in his charcoal eyes. She stifles a giggle.

"Mama!" Sakura composes herself. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, baby."

"Then, can we go?"

Sasuke runs a hand through his messy locks of hair and sits down next to her, contemplating her made up map. After thinking and rethinking the situation—which he never thought would happen—for a really long time, he sighs. He opts for the easy question, "why do you want to go?"

It was as if that was the worst thing he could have said, though, for the look of horror plastered on his daughter's face was priceless—but wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong. It was not good.

Her defined eyebrows are scrunched up together in the verge of touching, her eyes in an angry glare behind glass, and lips put into a frown.

He'd never seen such an expression from her, and even _he_ needed to recognise that it was pretty hilarious. And his thoughts were proven right when his dear, and _mature_, wife started laughing like there was no tomorrow. Couldn't she see the position he was in?

Sarada beamed with anger. "Papa! Isn't it obvious?" Sasuke stared. "I wanna go because this is where Santa lives!"

Well, that part he already knew–not that he was going to tell her that. Now he didn't have any options left. Now he was frustrated.

"Papa please? All I ask for this christmas is to see him!"

See Santa? Out of all the gifts he can get her from his travels—all the souvenirs and toys, the clothes and the little nothings—she chose the most difficult one. If not impossible.

"We can't go, Sarada."

He was greeted with a high-pitched wail of anger, "I wanna go!" He flinches in the slightest.

A pleading look in Sakura's direction, though, is all it takes for the disaster to stop—stop and end and _die_, along with his embarrassment.

His wife lifts little four-year-old Sarada up and holds her close while walking away from him, the paper long forgotten. He can hear suppressed laughter, snickers, and whispers.

And that's when he knows the disaster is still there and very much alive.

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"We talked about this."

"No."

"But Sasuke-kun—"

"No." He repeats, this time louder in the mess of their mangled bodies in the warmth of the bed. It's nighttime. He just wants to sleep, but it seems she had another idea in mind. Was she not sleepy?

"You know how happy that would make her," she whispers against his collarbone, making an unwanted shiver to run down his spine. The thought of her trying to convince him for the rest of the night brings him to, almost, make her shut up in the most unorthodox of ways.

Almost.

He remembers she needs to work tomorrow at the hospital, and that the last time he complied to his dark desires, she couldn't walk properly for more than three hours. He got a big red mark on his cheek for days after that.

So, with that in mind, he closes his eyes for the best and attempts to ignore his wife.

"Sasuke-kun?"

"I said no, Sakura. And that's final."

He should've known better.

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A mad Sasuke was the worst kind of Sasuke, Sakura thought. A mad Sasuke with a white beard was even better, she concluded.

"Santa!"

Sarada hugs him with genuine interest and happiness. And the ignorance of a young kid who clearly doesn't see the glare of pure humiliation coming from a male face covered in makeup and a long, white beard. His hair is covered with a white wig and a red christmas hat. The outfit is just as the one Santa is supposed to wear, and his tummy area is filled up with hidden pillows for the impression of him being fat.

It's an adorable scene, for sure. She will take pictures and keep them forever, and she would make sure he never had a saying.

Sakura can hear profanities being uttered from Sasuke's mouth and she pinches him slightly in the arm.

"Santa? What were you going to say?" Sakura threatens under the seemingly innocent question.

Sasuke stiffens, and swears this is the last thing he would do for this woman.

That, he knows, is a lie.

After a really long time of thinking of all the ways he could make Sakura suffer—and failing miserably—he takes a big breath and opens his mouth. Only to close it back again and glare at his pain in the ass for wife. She glares back intensely—he knows this, just this, he must do. He looks at the kid who holds onto his leg desperately. At his little girl.

If she's really happy, then...

Sasuke lifts up the corner of his mouth in an amused smirk, and murmurs.

"Ho ho ho, merry christmas!" It's just a whisper only the three of them can hear.

Still, he feels like dying. If only he could go to the North pole...

Sakura smiles and pats his back, unafraid of the dark aura that surrounds him.

_Good boy._

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><p>AN: So this was an idea I had a few nights ago that I just needed to write, regardless of the outcome (which I don't think is thaaaat bah xD). Reviews are appreciated and I'm thinking about adding more one-shots soon. Bye-bye!


	2. Hot Cocoa

A/N: I made this one shorter and I'm sorry it took so long. I may post 2 more one-shots before January 5th. :D yay. And for those who asked: Yes, of course you can send me ideas/prompts! It actually helps a little because I get kinda of a writter's block when I have to make one myself :P

Enjoy New Year's Eve!

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"Papa's coming baby," she whispers to the soon-to-be born creature that develops in her womb. Stretching her legs on the ample, brown couch and resting her head on a pillow, she sighs in annoyance at the lack of sound in the room.

Sakura looks around and focuses her gaze on the chimney: lit, and next to her. No more than fifteen minutes pass that she feels sleepy again.

A strong little kick has her guessing that the baby is very much awake and wanting to—for the life of her—eat.

Eat.

She sighs, "I see you're hungry again," patting her bump, she makes to stand up, gasping for the shortest second at the small contraction that crosses her and leaves her panting. But she's not due yet, and she knows—she knows she still has five weeks left to see her beautiful angel. And so she holds herself together and makes her way to the kitchen.

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The first thing Sasuke sees when he arrives home that afternoon—after going to every single grocery store and buying the things his lovely wife wanted—makes him smile.

It's just a quirk upward to the corner of his lips, but it's still something. He leaves the bags on the counter of the somewhat-messy kitchen and looks at the scene again.

The chimney is lit with fire, the soft cackling of the burning flames caressing his wife's face and making it tinge with the colours of the sun itself—warm and lively. She's on the couch. A small cup of hot chocolate on the table in front of her. And she's carrying an innocent gesture, laying—sleeping—on the couch and touching her now big tummy—as she likes to call it.

He wants to wake her—to tell her of all the sweet and tasty things he bought her and of which he took the trouble of spending most of the day finding.

But she's sound asleep and he's not stupid to not notice how everyday she wears dark bags under her eyes, and tired, exhausted smiles from lack of sleep. He knows she barely gets any rest lately, anymore. So he grabs a blanket and puts it over her, leaving the face uncovered.

He'll just have to stay here for the night, making sure nothing bad happens.

But first, he stands up to prepare another hot chocolate for himself.

Sakura lazily watches as he makes his way into the kitchen, and smiles.

She goes to sleep again.


End file.
